Maureen was waiting for Shaun as the red disc of the setting sun hung over the roof of the railway station. She stood watching the direction in which her cousin would come, caught sight of her and moved to meet her.
Shaun, her dead-set stare, indicative of the determination which had driven her to see Maureen raised her hand and touched her cousin's face. Unable to control her emotions kissed her, a long lasting kiss. Neither saying a word, knowing they had to be together, for a day, a month, forever. Arm in arm they walked down the lane to the beach. Barefoot, they ran along the beach to their cottage.
The bedroom became their haven. It was four months since they had seen one another. Maureen desperate to answer Shaun's regular letters, Knowing she dare not. Fearful of her cousin Pauline, or her aunt Rachel reading them.
The moment Shaun had dreaded, yet longed for had arrived. And as the leaves on the trees outside the window quivered in the breeze their eyes met, brimming with quicksprung tears. Shaun, almost afraid to touch her cousin, in case, as in all her dreams she fade away.
The barrier of time parted. Fingers, who knew, or cared who's tore at zips and hooks. Warm flesh melted to flesh equally as warm and soft. Igniting sparks and dreams as touch-bred flames began licking and yearning the lost hours and days.
Shaun cried out with delight as all the old familiarity came rushing back. The surge to belong to each other. Both seeking a desperate happiness.
Maureen, murmuring, "I'll never let you go." Shaun, adoring, gentle, even-reverend, as if to cup her cousin's swollen breasts was a privilege so rare, so precious that it made her speechless with awe. They found the secret intimacy of making love still the same earthy, shattering experience they had on that first night long ago. To Shaun, Maureen was a complete woman. To Maureen, Shaun Maclaren her Prince, who inspired her with star-bursts of colour, like Catherine wheels that spun in the night.
Maureen, always very close to her cousin, the days turned into months. Most evenings in the warm, friendly glow of the fire they listened to their favourite records. Maureen laying her head on Shaun's lap. Their soft kisses and tender caresses lasting long into the night. Occasionally they went for a walk that ended with a special dinner at the Sandwood Hotel.
Sundays they packed a picnic basket and drove to their favourite spot. Sometimes they walked through a paddock of green knee-high wheat. At the far edge of the field Shaun spread a blanket on the ground, Maureen the table-cloth, then she prepared their lunch. They both liked red wine and always took a bottle with them.
Shaun loved to wear slacks and a soft linen shirt, it gave her a leisurely feeling. Maureen always happy to wear a dress, or a skirt and a sleeveless top. After lunch they laid down, Maureen watching the hawk that circled above them, wondering where and when it would dive.
Fascinated by her cousin's tanned legs Shaun fondled and kissed them in turn. The hawk still circling above watched the two naked bodies entwine, then break away to dance among the wheat with the simple delight of living.
Such simple events last lovers a very long time. Some of them, all of their lives, hardly one of them able, or willing to turn their backs on the best things that ever happened.
Shaun and Maureen remembered their wheat field and with the coming of summer watched and play in it as it grew. They made love in the car in daylight. In the pine forests on their trips to the North, neither caring about the sharp pine needles that stuck to knees, backs and palms. To them it was a sexual mystery that bound them together, a mystery that neither wanted to solve.
Shaun bought her cousin a pretty blue night gown that Maureen wore every night. There were nights when Shaun slept like a baby, while her cousin lay awake watching her. In sleep Shaun looked contented, in love, not just with her, but with life, and she realised that this was Shaun's first and only love that no one would dare to spoil.
Maureen knew there were times when Shaun suffered some very bad pains. It was more, much more than pains from her periods, they were normal ones she could easily bear. She had often seen her laying on the bed with a pillow under her stomach trying to relieve the torment. When Maureen asked her about it, Shaun just cried told her it was always the same. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she watched Shaun pace the floor in the darkness trying to hide her pain
There was no Sarah Maureen could turn to. No Army nurses to help out. Desperate with worry she wrote to the Army medical board, pleading with them to help her cousin. A week later a defence department doctor ordered Shaun to report to his office regarding her pension. Shaun groped through the layers of sleep to reach Maureen's soft voice.
"It's late," she was telling her, "you have to keep your appointment. Your pension is at stake. "
Dr Robert Duncan scowled as he studied the medical history of Shaun Maclaren. He read about the tests, the Barium meals and X-rays she had been given. Of the results that proved she was not suffering from ulcers. His mouth set in hard lines as he read the civilian doctors suggestion that Shaun was psychosomatic and should be referred to a mental institution. This was the second year she had been examined for the grading of her service pension. He studied the letter from Maureen describing the pain and agony Shaun was suffering. Without waiting for further discussion he decided on an immediate operation.
The thickset surgeon in the theatre barely looked up as the tall figure of Robert Duncan in mask gloves and gown moved in opposite him. He was aware of the nurses, assistants and interns who moved quickly, in an orderly fashion, their feet making no sound. He glanced at the anaesthetist.
"How is she Dr Fowler?"
"Falling slightly", the anaesthetist answered, giving his readings.
"Primary shock developing,"Duncan observed. "Let's get on with it shall we?"
He studied the transfusion, "a little faster please doctor. "
Duncan waited as the surgeon opposite traced the pattern marked in blue lines that ran from his patient's breast bone down to her navel.
Shaun hovered above the table. She seemed to be floating — close to the ceiling. She watched the subaqueous ballet, a serious dance around the table on which her body now lay. she looked down at the operating theatre, all porcelain, stainless steel, gleaming silver gray.
There was no pain-she seemed not to feel anything. She touched the massive overhead lights, trying to make them swing. In her lighthearted mood she tried not to giggle as Dr Duncan looked and swore very softly. She put her hand over her mouth, hoping he hadn't heard, wondering if he knew she was almost able to touch him.
Enjoying her new found freedom she glided down to the table, touched the green cover that separated her chest and navel from the remainder of her body.
Fascinated, she stared at the profusion of tubes connected to her various parts. To someone like Shaun Maclaren, who did not even want to understand them, they were just a tangle of tubes. As she watched she realised they were the weapons of this little army fighting to free her from pain. The excitement was unlike anything she had ever known.
Shaun floated upwards, found herself among explorers. There was Cook, Flinders, Oxley and O'Connell. She thought they were smiling at her and decided that one day she write a book about the experience.
She examined the X-ray picture that hung directly in Dr Duncan's line of vision and gasped when she saw the arteries that turned and curved in her body like so many vines and creepers. Panic seized her as she watched the doctor pick up a scalpel and cut the frayed, eaten-away vagus nerve. She pleaded with him not to hurt her, even though she knew he was not able to hear her. She listened as he agreed with the other surgeon that the nerve was the main cause of the problem, then sighed with relief when he asked the suture Nurse to close.
Shaun floated around the room again. Felt a strange kind of happiness, being in a world without pain. In a small room close to the theatre Maureen was pacing the room. She saw her hovered next to her, heard the teardrops fall from her cousin's eyes. She wanted to tell her not to worry that everything would turn out right. Suddenly she knew it was time-to return to her body.
Up the bare steps and along the corridor Maureen ran her shoes ringing on the white tiled floor. She felt a sudden chill about the hospital and prayed that her Shaun was alive. Hours before the Matron had sent her home. Telling her to come back in the morning, advising she get a few hours rest.
Maureen found a nurse, a gleam of recognition crossed her eyes, replacing the look of annoyance at having her work interrupted. She showed her to her cousin's room where Shaun lay on a bed in a sea of white linen.
Shaun opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. She knew she had been rolling her head from side to side and wondered what was happening. The sounds she heard were muttered words, broken sentences that seemed to come from her lips. Her head ached, her mouth was dry and had an odd taste of something like cotton wool.
Maureen's heart skipped a beat as she watched her cousin's face struggle, as if to return from some far-away place. Dr Duncan stood with Maureen beside the bed, their faces furrowed with tension.
In the room there was no sound, no rustle, not even the sound of breathing. If only she hadn't written that letter, Shaun would be safe in her arms. Maureen knew she was to blame as the anger welled up within her.
"Shaun!" Dr Duncan whispered, "there's someone waiting to see you."
She stared at the doctor, her eyes strained to understand. He stroked her arm gently then pressed it, hoping for some reflex. He watched her dry lips move, barely touching each other. He glanced at her cousin. Maureen lent over the bed.
"Shaun - you are going to get well," she told her doing her best to smile, "the doctor says you'll be free of pain."
Maureen moved away as the nurse came in to straighten the bed. She felt suddenly exhausted, thought the room was stifling. She shut her eyes — opened them quickly, knew that the nurse was looking at her. She put her hand on her forehead, it felt strangely cold. A sound, part sob, part laugh forced itself from her throat. Almost audible, the doctor still heard it, assumed it had come from the patient. He turned, looked at Maureen, saw that the colour had drained from her face. As her knees buckled he caught her.
The nurse took her into the waiting room and gave her a warm drink.
"Shaun!" she said to the nurse, "will she ever speak again",
Robert Duncan examined her. When he had finished she asked about Shaun. He explained about something called the Vagus nerve, told her it was the cause of the pain. That it came from the base of the skull, down her neck and thorax, then down to her stomach. That acid had eaten part of it away.
"She will have a better quality of life," he assured her, now that the damage has been repaired. "Of course there are risks." he continued, "In every operation there is a certain amount of risk. I believe she'll pull through. With your love and support she'll find the will to live."
They went back into Shaun's room. The nurse told them there had been no change. They watched, hoping for some form of expression, not one of them daring to move. At last into the uneasy silence came words, low, and very clear.
"Maureen! Maureen. I do love you - I wouldn't have really left you."
Maureen cried as she grasped her cousin's hands. Shaun smiled at her. A nurse came in, checked the machines and gave Shaun an injection. She heard voices, soft and caring, saw the tenderness in her cousin's secret glances.
Happy she had decided to return to her body. Knowing that her cousin really did love her, Shaun fell into a deep contented sleep.
She found that the next few weeks passed in a confused way. She tired easily. Even though Dr Duncan had recommended that her service pension be up-graded there still seemed to be a shortage of money. She slept with her cousin as usual, but found the strain of trying to satisfy her was more than she could manage, Maureen would often ignore her, pretending to be asleep.
Maureen found a part-time job at the Sandwood hotel, leaving Shaun alone most of the day. For her life became boring. She became fed up going for walks along the deserted beach, she longed for Maureen's company. When her cousin came home from the Hotel she appeared to be too tired to even talk to her, and most nights went straight to bed.
Shaun wanted to go back to printing. The local doctor suggested she should wait.
"Perhaps next year," he told her, "it is by far better to wait until you are fully recovered." She thought some form of writing might satisfy her, and began to use Maureen's old typewriter.
At first she wrote about the bush and 'Luckham Downs', then came to a block when she thought about Casey Anne. She thought about her experience in the hospital theatre. For hours she sat at the keyboard, forgetting her troubles with Maureen.
The days raced by. Maureen's old typewriter sung every morning. In the afternoons Shaun went to the library and studied religious doctrine, spiritual happenings. She began to understand her feelings at the Convent. Knew why she wanted to become a Priest and the reasons convention forced her to quash them.
She threw herself into her work. Wrote with an intensity and fire she had never felt before. The images sprang to her mind as she saw with a sharp perception the colour that flooded the scenes, and found it difficult to keep up with the impetus of the figures bustling for life on the page. She felt the harmony of the poor, the deformed, the unfulfilled and the pleasure of a friendly act.
Shaun Maclaren loved again the sky and the beach, the rocks, the rolling surf. She seemed to be touched with an ecstasy, a thrill of intoxication, and felt within her all the confused desires of living things, and watched their spirits soar.
Maureen tried hard to ignore the tension between them when she returned from her work at the Sandwood Hotel. She knew they were desperate for a change. She was afraid to broach the subject, believing it could make Shaun feel she did not love her. That she was not wanted, or needed any more.
She came home early one evening, persuaded Shaun to leave her book and walk with her along the beach. The air was peculiarly still, that eerie interval after the birds fall silent. The pathway to the beach was deserted. Their feet made no sound on the sand. All they could hear was the lap of the waves alongside them.
They held hands and walked in silence from the path to the edge of the cliffs. Deep in thought they turned and went back towards the cottage. In the pale moonlight they stood by the gate, absorbed in contemplation of their own thoughts.
"Thank you for all the love you have given me," Maureen whispered as she held her cousin's hand, "you know we both need a break from each other. Our love — it will go on forever."
Shaun placed a finger on Maureen's lips.
"Its both of us, " she said very softly, "I know it's time for me to leave. I need space to finish my book. I need to see Mum – I."
Shaun wanted to tell her cousin so much more: the seeking in her heart. Of floating in the hospital. The dark empty, frightening places that surrounded her whenever she was alone in the cottage. That the most vulnerable moments were those of triumphant joy when she found she loved all creatures, living, suffering. She wanted to tell her of the secret self that the evil of the world wanted to destroy by exposing their love. That even with lips on lips the secret self remained alone.
They stood for a moment gazing at the moon. Overwhelmed by emotion they kissed, a kiss that seemed to be never ending. When at last it was over Maureen suggested they go into the cottage. With a strength that came from deep emotion they made love, each hoping it would go on forever, each knowing it was the end.
In the morning Shaun Maclaren was gone. Through her tears Maureen had a strange feeling that perhaps she had caught some echo of her cousin's heart and mind. She knew it was right to let her go, and that Shaun needed to be with her mother. In her heart she felt that their special love was stronger than ever before, that one day Shaun would return yet she found it impossible to rid herself of this feeling of despair.
At first Shaun thought it was humiliating that at her age she should have a sudden longing for her mother. She hoped and prayed that she might give her a little encouragement and not treat her writing with a similar hostility she felt Maureen had. She knew her mother would not have any idea of how she could get it published.
Shaun knew she needed an older man, someone she could go to for help and advice. She thought about Sandy Highfield. No one had ever mentioned him, or seen him for years. She vaguely remembered 'Luckham Downs', made up her mind that one day she would make her home in the North.
She knew her eldest sister Pauline had remarried someone in the publishing business, wondered if he might be able to help — or perhaps her sister Jillian. She quickly dismissed the idea when she recalled the beatings, the lies, and treatment she had been forced to endure during her school holidays, and how they continuously blamed her for the death of Casey Anne. The thought of them abhorred her.
On the outskirts of the city Shaun found a large two bedroomed flat. Her mother, fed up with Pauline asked if she could live with her. Shaun was delighted and could find no objections.
By the end of the year she had completed her manuscript and went in search of a publisher. Months went by without anyone making an offer. There were many letters of rejection, most were kind, some sympathetic, telling her that the script was competently written. Others told her it was not suitable to their present program, one or two said they could be interested sometime in the future. Determined to succeed she decided on self-publishing and invested all her savings. Six months later she found it was impossible to continue due to insufficient funds.
Angry with her failure, which had left her heavily in debt. Disgusted with her mother's criticism of her efforts she put the manuscript in the bottom of her service trunk and vowed never to read it again.
Shaun decided to go back to printing. The huge presses gave her a feeling of importance, something she felt she needed after the rejection of her book.
Bartholomew Carter welcomed her with open arms when she arrived at Morris and Sons. She found the tedious job of collating was something to look forward to, and it gave her time to think about Maureen. They wrote to each other at least four times a week and Shaun treasured every letter. The letters were her secret, her comfort, one that she guarded with a jealous care.
Rachel noticed her youngest daughter was wearing only slacks and shirts and wondered why. Her concern became unbearable and she examined the contents of Shaun's wardrobe. There were no dresses, skirts blouses or jumpers and only thick winter pajamas for night wear. The following day she spoke to her daughter about it.
Shaun explained that was the way she preferred to dress, and it was easier for her to work in slacks. Her mother became irate and told her to go and buy some decent clothes. Shaun told her it was none of her damn business, that she had no right going through her things. It was her flat and that she was paying all the expenses.
During the following weeks Shaun felt that her mother was trying to run her life and on the rare occasion when she did mention Maureen, Rachel became upset, telling Shaun she would not allow that person in the home, and that if Shaun continued writing to her she could leave.
Her brother George visited his mother at least once a week, and listened to her complaints about his sister. One day he told Shaun she was behaving more like a man than a single woman and thought it was time she was married. Shaun, unable to contain her anger told him to leave, and when he refused contacted the local police who eventually escorted him out of the flat.
Anxious as always to hear from her cousin Shaun went at least twice a week to the post office to collect her mail. For some time there had not been any letters, not even the usual bills. Worried Shaun tried telephoning her. There was never any answer, and Shaun put it down to her working long hours at the Sandwood Hotel.
"Mrs Maclaren's been collecting the mail," the post office clerk told her, after she made inquiries about mislaid letters.
"For how long,"
"The past six weeks. She told us you wanted her to collect your mail. We have the authorization you signed."
Her mother was out when Shaun went to the flat. She knew Maureen had written. That her mother had either hid the letters or destroyed them. In every room she searched the draws, cupboards and boxes. At last she found a pile of letters. Some from friends, some from the Service, bills, many demanding immediate payment, underneath, letters from Maureen. In the privacy of her room she opened them. Heard her mother return. Too angry to find out why she had hidden her mail she continued reading her cousin's letters.
The first one was filled with love and a tenderness that made her cry. The next about her work at the Sandwood begging her to come home to the cottage.
Shaun re-read the letter and decided to go to the coast, there love was all that mattered. She glanced at the post-marks, saw they were weeks apart. She read the letters from her friends, and the one from the Army about her pension. She placed the bills to one side, knowing she would have to pay them later. Wanting to know why her mother had hidden them she went into the lounge room to confront her.
"So you found them," her mother said angrily as soon as Shaun entered the room, "here's another I picked up this morning, and I know who it's from. Don't you dare bring that woman into this house."
Shaun wanted to tell her mother that it was her flat, that she paid the bills, that she would bring home who the hell she wanted. If she didn't like it then move back with Pauline. Instead she picked up the letter turned it over and over. She could almost see the words inside the envelope. She put it against her face, praying that her worst fears were not true. Her mother staring at her, her face flushed with anger.
Her heart heavy with apprehension Shaun opened Maureen's last letter. She read it again and again. With tears rolling down her cheeks she learned that her cousin was going to get married.
Shaun ran from the room, blinked back the tears threw her few clothes into a suitcase and drove to the coast never wanting to see or hear from her mother again.
At the Sandwood Hotel Maureen was serving behind the bar. Shaun controlled her urge to rush up to her, waiting until she had finished serving.
"Why Maureen? Why are you doing this to me?" she asked, "You know I love you. Please Maureen, please don't treat me this way."
"There was no need for you to come down here. You never even took the trouble to answer my letters. Besides, I'm not getting married for a few weeks. You can go back to the cottage and wait for me."
"No!" Shaun retorted angrily, "I demand an explanation. I don't ever want to enter that cottage again. I'll stay here."
People were beginning to stare at them, others looked away. A few of them left the bar disgusted with their behaviour. This was, after all The Sandwood Hotel, where incidents like this did not happen.
"Don't bother," Shaun said loudly, "I'll be leaving in the morning."
She stared at the engagement ring Maureen was wearing. It made the eternity ring she had given her months ago, still on her finger seem cheap and unimportant.
It was just before midnight when Maureen banged on her cousin's door. Shaun was sitting outside in the round balcony absorbed by the moonlight, she had made up her mind never to see her cousin again. She was hurt and felt the need for revenge.
She knew it was all her mothers fault, but Maureen, her first love, her only love had no right to get married without an explanation. She knew her cousin could never love anyone else. The banging continued. Shaun, left the balcony, determined not to let her cousin in. Maureen stood in the doorway. The deep gold dress she was wearing clung to her every curve, lending her hair a rich burnished hue. The vee of the neck line exposing her deep cleavage, the slim-heeled sandals gave her that touch of elegance Shaun had never seen before.
A delicate tinge of pink crept over Shaun's cheeks. She was powerless to stop the tears that welled behind her eyes. It seemed as if someone had taken control of her voice. She wanted to shout at her cousin, tell how much she had been hurt. The silence between them interminable.
"I'm sorry Shaun," Maureen offered, "you must know that it's you I really love."
Shaun desperately wanted to take her in her arms, tell her she had forgiven her. She drew away from the door, ran into the bedroom, hurting, deep inside. Crying with tears that flowed from already swollen lids. She turned to slam the bedroom door, but Maureen was there before her, arms outstretched to keep it open.
Instead of falling into each others arms with regret for the months they had been separated, her behaviour had poisoned Maureen's intentions. Shaun knew it was all her fault, and turned her back on her cousin as she sat on the edge of the bed.
"Shaun! - Shaun!" Maureen pleaded, "please turn round and look at me. You must know I have to get married. I need the security. The Hotel will only employ me now until the end of the month. This is my only chance. Please try to understand."
She felt her move close to her. She kissed her forehead as her hands stroked her back. Shaun still refused to look at her cousin even as she drew her round onto her back. She lay with her eyes closed, head turned away, aware of the tears that flowed down her cheeks and her cousin's soft, warm caressing hands. Maureen unbuttoned her shirt, gently removed her slacks as she soothed her through the material, drawing her into a deep pool of relaxation. When they kissed, even with her eyes closed tight Shaun was not an unwilling partner.
The slow, enthralling movements of Maureen's hands and her warm soft lips on her neck and arms began to melt her anger. Even in their most tender embrace it was always Shaun who led the way, her cousin content to follow. Now Maureen had taken over.
There was a sense of urgency in her every movement. No waiting for Shaun to fondle her breasts and thighs as she had in the past. This time she seemed desperate to reach her climax. Panic forced Shaun to open her eyes as Maureen's hands became suddenly still. She wanted to show her how much she could love her if only she would wait. From the look of contentment and her half closed eyes, Shaun knew she had surpassed her. Out of love, despair, disappointment she cradled Maureen in her arms.
Her mind began to race. If her cousin was going to marry this elderly farmer, then surely there was no harm in their making love. They could meet at the cottage, even here, at the Hotel, perhaps once a month, - once a week. Minutes later she dismissed the idea knowing it would not be fair.
Maureen opened her eyes and told Shaun how much she loved her. It was the words she really wanted to hear. In the dimly lit bedroom they talked of their special love, which they knew could go on for ever. It was the reason, Maureen told she was still wearing her ring. While they talked Shaun believed it was true.
Shaun stared into the darkness, she had tried so hard to find sleep. She looked for a long time at her cousin sleeping like a child. The rise and fall of her chest, fist curled under her cheek, hair spilled over the pillow. In her sleep her mouth was curved in a smile, a smile of content, of being fulfilled. Shaun drew the covers over her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek.
She tip-toed to the balcony, opened the curtains and watched the clouds passing over the moon. She knew that things between them would never be the same, and listened to the voice inside her that had told so many times that a love like theirs was doomed from the start. There was she thought, no such thing as a love that lasted forever.
She dressed, hurriedly scribbled a loving note of goodbye and drove back to the city.
Weeks later Maureen sent her a wedding invitation, and a note pleading with her to attend. On the day of the wedding Shaun burnt all her cousin's letters, never wanting to see her again.